My blind optimism to blame

[reddosmod]

APRIL 2022 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A large green butterfly.]
[Image Two: A woman staring in a daze at light orbs floating around her face.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A volcano with meteors falling down around it.]
[Image Two: A ball of quivering light hovering in the dark with woman standing in front.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A woman staring at a mirror-like humanoid being staring back at her.]
[Image Two: A woman in a field of grass with humanoid-shaped flower sculptures nearby.]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

MIGRATION OF MOONLIT BUTTERFLIES

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Hopelessness/corruption, heavy themes of mental trauma/health, killing of gentle creatures.

---

Excerpt from BEASTS OF DEER COUNTRY Chapter 12: Migrations:

"One of the most beautiful natural phenomena of Deer Country is the migration of the mysterious Moonlit Butterflies. These giant creatures are most often the size of a house, with exceptional wingspans. Fear not: they are not violent creatures. Most will fly well above the city of Trench, leaving trails of glittering orbs of light that fall all throughout the city. However, it is common for some Moonlit Butterflies to land and rest throughout Trench. Despite their massive size, these creatures appear to weigh very little, able to rest harmlessly on homes, lampposts, and the like. Don't be surprised to find some scattered throughout your neighborhood.

They have a gentle aura about them and are most famous for their behemoth wings which glow a radiant green. They are aptly named due to their ability to store immense power from the moon during April and are seen as distant children of Argonaut. Being near them will enchant the air with the scent of amber and fresh linen, and you may hear a soothing song emit from these beasts.

Despite their rare and incredible beauty, it is wise to not linger in their presence no matter how captivating they are...And they are captivating. Many residents of Trench have been known to stop and stare, enthralled by the wings or the orbs of light that are shed by the butterflies. Those who have been staring for too long will have an unnatural glowing green glaze over their eyes, obscuring their pupil and gaze. This is known as the Moonlit Drain.

These butterflies do not gather all of their energy from moonlight...but they gather it from hopeful beings as well. It is why they gather among populations of sentient beings. They soak up all hope in the area and the longer you stand in their presence, the more hopeless you may become. Standing in the presence of a Moonlit Butterfly has driven people to rapid, severe corruption in under ten minutes. It is best to avoid these butterflies no matter how mesmerizing they may be to look at.

The little orbs of light are actual manifestation of everyone's hope. Touching them may restore hope and they can be gathered into jars for future treatments of corruption. They do not "go bad" as they are the essence of emotion. One way to restore hope to a corrupt or beast-ridden soul is to slay one of the Moonlit Butterflies. They are incredibly easy to kill as they are naturally delicate and non-hostile.

Be warned: the one who slays a Moonlit Butterfly will be consumed with instantaneous corruption and possibly even beasthood. But once the butterfly has been slain, anyone in the surrounding area besides the killer will have corruption alleviated. Killing a Moonlit Butterfly has been known to fill people with incredible grief and guilt. Few have survived."

WONDERKIND

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere outside
CONTENT WARNINGS: Possible spoilers per canon, time/vortex style presence, variety of possible monsters.

---

Excerpt from an essay titled "The Wonderkind Pthumerian" from the book The Curious Nature of the Weakest Pthumerian: Argonaut and Misconceptions:

"Most of the other Patron Pthumerians are known for exceptional strength and durability during trying times. It is only Argonaut in which people think of weakness. They believe the Patron to be a fickle, tiny thing with little worth, but there is a unique and powerful quality to Argonaut that should not be overlooked.

This is the phenomenon known as Wonderkind. It has only been known to happen once every few years and only ever during April, but those who have seen it would testify to the hidden strengths of our explorer Patron. There is much to be said about curiosity and resilience, after all. Argonaut has wandered through the lives of many without most ever realizing it. He has likely seen into your own life, curious about the odd Sleepers that show up on the shores of this world.

Wonderkind appears as a meteor shower, but these are no meteors. Balls of flaming light will fall from the sky, silent, beautiful, striking, and somewhat ominous and terrifying. They rain upon Trench in intervals throughout April. They do not crash into the city so much as glide throughout. These balls of light are shimmering orbs that have split open time and space itself into unraveling cocoons, exposing portals into worlds foreign to this one.

These portals cannot be entered for they are not portals out of this world...But portals into this world. Sleepers have claimed to find beloved items and pull them out of these portals. Some may find old pets that come out to greet them. It can be a lucky and cherished event for many. Tragically, these portals do not seem to be able to bring in sentient beings applicable characters, but you may be able to talk briefly to a loved one who isn't yet in this world.

But that's not all that can crawl through these portals...Monsters from other worlds have been known to flock to these portals and make their way through. Monsters from your worlds or other worlds slip in to wreak havoc on the streets of Trench. It is during this time that it is of the utmost importance that our Hunters take up arms and protect the vulnerable. If you recognize the monsters or disasters from your world entering ours, then please, make sure to caution those against it.

The portals close after a few hours and cannot be manually closed by anyone. Nothing can be sent into portals, but one can stand by a portal and guard it for potential dangers. Portals from your world may reappear several times throughout the month, so don't let your guard down for even a moment, and always expect the worst even when hoping for the best."

Quick Facts:

1. Respect the setting. Do not bring in monsters that would be capable of destroying the world/city/etc.

2. Things like unique plants/items can be gained through these portals.

3. You do not need to engage with portals from your own canon. You can invent new worlds, engage with other canons, or alternate universes. It's up to you.

FROM WITHIN AND WITHOUT

WHEN: April
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Instant beasthood, corruption of soul, draining of soul, replication of soul, mistreatment of sex workers/night walkers.

---

An excerpt from a journal kept by a Night Walker named Charlotte Finch. Finch was known for being one of the first established Night Walkers and was known for her advocacy on the front of Night Walker work and its relationship to beasthood. This journal is kept in the Archives. It contains content pertinent to Beasthood yet, unfortunately, due to ongoing biases against Night Walkers, this journal is kept in the autobiography section rather than the section for beasthood. Good luck finding it.

"the job of the Night Walker is, of course, undervalued by this world. we do our best to soothe the troubled souls of this place and yet they continue to doubt our worth. what must we do to convince them? must we wield blades to show them how we fight? must we shed blood to prove our dedication? must we pick up books to show our intelligence? nei, we not do that. we sleep beside our worn hunters and rest heads upon the chests of scholars and hold the tired hands of architects. we guide the way to light in a way disciples could never.

all us are valuable, it be true, but why must the night walker be left to the wayside? why must our duties be written off? why must it be that it always a night walkers blood in the streets that leaves no tears to be shed? nei, nei, it is hatred of those who understand the soul and body have a close connection.

you know what i believe? these souls of ours change the landscape of our bodies. you cannot have one without the other. when the soul is corrupt, it only be natural that the body corrupts, turning rigid and hideous and monsterous and beastly. aye yes i have seen it myself, though none of the others believe except for other night walkers.

you see, there is a shape that comes to us in the Long Night of april, a shape much like our own. looking like a person ought to look but with no face and no features, like a mirror glimmering in the shape of you. they look like us, and they will mimic us. these odd mirror beings is the shape of our soul, you see, and once it finds you, it will copy you, and you will be driven mad! mad! how does this thing move as you move? how does it replicate what you replicate?

aye, it is your soul, my friend. your soul in a shape you can see. or something like it, may not soul be in your lexicon. it is you, as you are it. it is the Tether between you and beasthood, see what i say. the Tether will begin to soak into you if you let it, if you let it consume you, and it will consume you rapidly. people have been known to be ravaged by the Tether and turn into beasts within seconds, AYE yes, seconds, not minutes, into a vicious beast. the Tether wins.

But you need not let it be a victor, my friend. you see, we proved it, we did, us night walkers, we proved to lay with the Tether is to soothe the Tether. Allow yourself the kindness of another soul, another companion. touch and feel and express companionship. holding the hand of your lover or your friend or your brother or sister will cause the Tethers to weaken before ye very eyes! i do swear it, my friend, i should not lie on a subject i hold so dear.

you see, when we hold one another dear, when we cherish one anothr truly and wholly, we abate the darkness in our souls. listen to your companions, my sweet friends, and let your souls heal, and you can stop the Tether from consuming. you see, you see. surely you see. this is what it looks like. the Tether is always with us, but only in April under this moon can we see it always and will it be vicious and invasive. do not allow it.

do not allow it."

Quick Facts:

1. Tethers will take the exact body shape/size of you and mimic your moves. They may follow you around for several hours/days. Once they decide to "consume" you, it will be quick. It will essentially look like your body is turning metallic and then you become a beast.

While Charlotte states it happens in a matter of seconds, this can happen in several hours/days as well. Depends on the character and their general resolve.

2. People can be pulled back from this through emotional support whether verbally or physically and general acts of kindness. It's the sincerity that matters here. You do not need to be familiar with the person to help them.

3. Everyone can see each other's Tethers so you can determine how severe someone's Tether has become. The more severe the Tether, the more silvery the impacted person will look.

4. Tethers cannot be destroyed with weaponry/attacks. Trying will only hurt the person they are mimicking. You could actually kill someone by trying to "kill" their Tether. The tether will vanish with those who died but reappear once they have reincarnated.

CODING

Comments

L Lawliet | Death Note | OTA

[hearthebell]

I. Moonlit Butterflies (Gaze)

[Reliably, L is a pragmatic man without much use for hope. It's a thing that feels deceptively nice, like the bloom of warmth and comfort that sets in right before one begins to freeze to death in earnest. It's a pernicious influence, in other words, better kept at arm's length.

Trench has a way of melting into one's core, though. Human contact, relationships and gentle kindness have warmed him through, bit by bit, and with those he would call friends, one he would call nemesis, and even one he might call a crush, in spite of the darkness L has perhaps more legitimate hope than he ever has before.

The result is that he guards it jealously. When you happen upon him in Gaze, he is filling a third container with orbs. He's no killer, but his fevered greed has resulted in a dearth of them in this area.

Maybe you're in dire need of hope, yourself.]

II. Wonderkind (NETWORK in Crenshaw, CW: Monster attack, tongue eggs, amputation by hand-melting]

[L is crouched in his latest deserted hovel, scouted for a week prior before he moved in for a mere two days. He has one day left before he'll move to his next location; it's important to him that foes and friends alike never have an easy time finding him, that his exact residence is never easily or readily known, because then it can be shared, sold, purchased, exploited.

As a result of his approach, he has to travel light. His sleeper backpack contains all his worldly goods, a compact bedroll in the form of a single tatty blanket, and a set of clothes in addition to the ones on his back to allow for occasional laundry. His lamp friend remains, as he's never set it down in a place he can call home permanently. Bits of food, bloodstones, and a carefully-wrapped journal also reside in the bag, and tonight, this final item is what he stoops over to study, careful to only handle it with a glove on his right hand, and only then turning the pages with his fingertips.

He's read it twice, now, a piece of necromantic literature purloined from The Emperor's study, but he is going over it again for missing pieces, anything he perhaps failed to memorize perfectly.

A ball of glowing light glides through the open window. The shift in shadows immediately catches L's attention, but the ball seems to blot and burn a hole into the fabric of the world right before his eyes. It isn't his world he's staring into; it's one that's both very similar and very strange. A battle on a subway platform between a tall muscular man with red skin and sawed-off horns, and a sickening and gruesome monster is occurring...

...and then, the monster is in L's secluded room, all slobber and disconcerted rage. He bolts to his feet, but not before it has lashed out its tongue, wrapping its slimy length around his ungloved left hand. There's a piercing sensation near the delicate bones there, something between sucking and penetration, and when the thing lurches away to propel itself out the window, L's left staring at the slicing wound in his left palm, and the half-dozen gelatinous orbs nestled secure inside.

He steadies his breathing, dissociates to the best of his ability. Using the hook of his right index finger, he tries to pry the eggs loose, but they're snug inside, practically glued. He swallows, starting to shake in spite of his best efforts to remain calm, when his eyes fall on that warded book. He thinks of the promised effect of touching it, the care he's taken so far to avoid doing just that.

Surely just one corner, strategically applied, might yield the result he needs. Hating that he doesn't know the timeline he's working within, or whether seeking medical attention instead would be prudent or folly, he lifts the book in his gloved right hand, turning it so that he can ever-so-carefully apply a little bit of prodding pressure to the embedded eggs in his palm with the tiniest possible portion of its cover.

It works immediately; it works too well. L sets the book hastily aside as the eggs disintegrate, and, with them, his entire left hand, down to sinew, down to bone, and then the bones, too, are puddled and fizzing at his feet.

He steps back, watching the blood that drips from the stump of his wrist drip and pool and follow him. Wherever he goes, there it is, and he is calm but it is a weaker insistence now as his vision starts to blotch around the edges.

His blanket is his compress until it's soaked through and summarily tossed aside. Then his spare clothes; by this point he's had the presence of mind to tear a sleeve off his bloodied shirt and use his fork to create a makeshift tourniquet.

He manages to type a message with fingers jittery from adrenaline, clumsy from blood loss.]

UN: ENPAWNSANT

ATTN sleepwrs in crenahw

rhter is a movstert that has emedged grom a oportAL

watch the tobgue

effectiva devense measures not nknow at tis time

III. From Within and Without (Cellar Door)

[A little later in the month, L is whole and mended once again, but his troubles in April aren't yet done. He knows because he's begun to notice his shadow, perhaps for the very first time.

At first he thinks he's cracking up, maybe in the sort of way that isn't all bad. It's like having a friend, after all, someone who follows him and does what he does and doesn't shun or judge. He even laughs at it sometimes, the absurdity of it all. Gradually, his milky skin starts to take on a silver hue, which is not as alarming as it might be for one who isn't as pale and paleblood as L.

It feels very natural, even. He always knew he'd be devoured. Now that it's happening, how can he truly fault the creature that's bested him?]

Hey...

[The edges of the strange man's eyes and veins seem to be molten silver.]

I wonder if you can give something to a friend of mine. He'll want to have it, and I don't think I'll be able to do it myself. I'll pay you in bloodstones, or... actually, you can just take everything I have, OK?

IV. WILDCARD

[Don't see it? Want it? Have at it! Wedge some slice of life in between these events, offer to get the book back to Jod's study for a price, or anything else your heart desires. I'm easy.]

i.

[encyclonepedia]

Locked.

[The word is spoken with a sort of absent annoyance, as if he's too distracted to let the concept bother him as much as it normally would. Much of the natural knowledge of this place is lost to him. Having to write the books himself is a pain. They will sometimes appear on the shelves of his mental library, but far too many of them require keys that he wouldn't even know where to start or whether it was even worth his time.]

With the keywords "glowing butterflies" I've found Princeps nireus, but a bit of florescence on the wings doesn't compare to this.

[Cross referencing with anything involving floating lights had brought up the will o wisp. While a fascinating subject, he doesn't believe there's a connection here. Perhaps vaguely.

He has to shake himself out of research mode (never an easy task) to recognize that he isn't actually alone and talking to himself.]

What are you doing?

[hearthebell]

[L is quick to glance up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice speaking a single word, sounding anything but amiable on top of that.]

Who are you?

[He sounds tetchy and suspicious. He doesn't take well to total strangers approaching him to lecture him. Well... in fairness, he takes poorly to close acquaintances and friends doing that, as well.]

Do you notice how you feel around them? I did... and I noticed that this changes things.

[encyclonepedia]

[Noticing how he feels would involve actually focusing on something other than the thousands of articles he'd been going through mentally for his research on the strange beings. For being interested in a subject he sure wasn't spending all that much time actually looking at it.

Instead he held the notebook he'd been given on his arrival in one hand. He has it open to the middle but all the pages are blank.]

How I feel?

[Philip puts a thoughtful hand to his chin. Tilting his head up toward one of the butterflies, he finally allows himself a good stare.]

... Oh.

[hearthebell]

[L appreciates the scholarly types, working so hard to crack the endless tangled mystery of Trench. Maybe, someday, all of them working together will finally solve it; perhaps it's not possible to unravel something with logic that does not exist by its rules, to begin with.

He follows the other young man's gaze, witnesses his sudden comprehension.]

Who are you?

[He repeats it, more softly but no less insistently. He is not unlike others L has known, lit with a sort of book-smart intensity that would not be out of place in certain hushed halls and libraries.]

ii. wonderkind

[terriblepurpose]

[At first, Paul thinks he's cut himself under the grey, soapy water in the sink. He pulls his hand out of the water with a soft, quick inhale, and he's running the tap to rinse the suds from his palm when he feels the alien, invasive press of something foreign in a wound that isn't his.

His gorge rises in a scalding eruption of citrus, prophecy burning in the back of his throat as his eyes flare with pale light.]

Don't -

[He's not saying it to the man at his elbow, whose void-black gaze falls on Paul from a great distance removed. He closes his hand around his left wrist under the shadow of a cresting wave of obliteration, and when it falls, so does he.

There is pain that can be anticipated and braced for. There is pain that cannot. That Paul has felt nearly this before doesn't change that. The sounds that spill wetly through his clenched teeth as he goes to his knees (steadied and slowed, though he can barely tell) are proof of that. He feels a hand dissolve tissue layer by tissue layer, nerves exquisitely flensed, ligaments and bones in sizzling disintegration.

When it's done, it still hurts. His unharmed wrist is a raw, burning wound, his unblemished hand past it a numb absence. It moves when he tells it to, but when he sees what it looks like when he does he decides to keep it still. His face is slick around the eyes, damp around the mouth, and he shivers at the cold.

He's not thinking when his Omen scrabbles out of his sleeve to fall to the floor in front of him, when he looks to her with wild, thoughtless panic.]

Lazarus. [He ekes out, rasping and strained, as Sophia's ears prick up for vocal transmission.] Where are you?

[hearthebell]

[Would that L was thinking about his Bonded in Crenshaw, in the abandoned house without water or power where he is hiding tonight.

Paul's message comes when he's spent an undetermined time blacked out, faceplanted into a couch he was pushing toward the door to barricade the room. That's what makes the most sense right now, after all; a wounded animal can't just open his dwelling and his life for predators to pick him clean. No, more than ever he absolutely must guard his stumps and bloody bones.

He's in a mode where he's gathering and holding everything close. No moonlight in the room means that everything is washed in alarming red. He feels bad, weak and nauseous, and the answer feels like closing everyone out who could possibly come for him, for the purpose of helping or harming.

That's why when he answers Paul with shaky, slow fingers, it probably seems pretty unconvincing.]

creNSahsdw

wHy ?

[terriblepurpose]

[Lazarus' presence along the edges of Paul's nervous system is usually a nebulous, undifferentiated thing, and his elliptical orbit of a sleep cycle rarely draws Paul's attention except at the grinding edge of exhaustion near its outer reach. It turns out that separation of conscious awareness doesn't hold as true when it comes to shock. The world fills with grey static as Paul waits for his answer, curled up against the kitchen counter under a blanket considerately draped over his forcibly motionless shoulders. There's nothing wrong with him, so there's nothing more to be done for him than that.

(He says it's all right to let him wait on his own; he's still not, and that's another kind of static, dappled like rain.)

It's in this context Paul reads the message on the Omni balanced precariously on his chest tucked knees, and he does find the question just a little disingenuous.]

You know why. [Control has come back to his voice, obsidian sharp and brittle.] Don't play a game with me. I'm not in the mood.

[hearthebell]

[The reply takes awhile, beacuse L is typing so very carefully now in a last ditch effort to get everyone to leave him alone in his agony. He's sorry that he's sharing it with Paul; the fact that it hurt him was unfortunate, but it's not as though L wanted this to happen to either of them.

Unlike Paul, he has no blanket. He's shaking in the dark, one sleeve off his shirt to reveal gooseflesh along his bony arm that ends in a stump,, his blanket and most of his clothes wet and sticky and useless for warmth.

He gives up on typing, but speaking is almost as much effort through his shivering, distracting pain, and increasing state of disoriented confusion. Lycka glowers nearby, equal parts concerned and furious.

She and Paul probably have that in common.

The message comes through, forced-calm and still shaky. His words are a little irregular, less precise and crisp than they usually are when spoken aloud.]

No game... there's been an accident but I'm handling it. I'm going to take a powerful opiate shortly and then you should get some relief.

[There's the sound of a piece of furniture being less pulled, and more thrown out of the way. Lycka is not having his barricade efforts in the least.]

III. From Within and Without (Cellar Door)

[unphase]

[Tinya has had a rough time, too. it's her birthday month, shouldn't she be excused from the worst of things because she had a birthday coming up fast?

apparently not really. she loves Argonaut, who can't? especially not people like her with a weakness for cute, which Argonaut had in spades. she's let Argonaut into The Maze and all of her kitties, including her Omen, Moonlight and her batcat, Carmilla seemed to approve. she finds Argonaut's beauty a compliment to her own and is proud that he is her patron.

but clearly being devoured hadn't entered into her equation. because she blinks in fond surprise at L at his question]

Yes. Yes, of course I can. May I ask who the friend is and why it's so vital he receive it? Because I figure he'd want to know why you wanted him to have it?

[hearthebell]

[He nods, briskly and humbly. Maybe he only asked this at all because he believed that Tinya would be amenable, however strange or difficult the question.]

It's just...

[He rifles through his sleeper backpack, which is starting to look worn somehow even though it's indestructable. He withdraws a small pouch, the contents of which rattle around like marbles.]

You know Paul, right? These bloodstones are meant to go to him.

[And he starts to hand over his backpack afteward, everything in it.]

[unphase]

[she's always willing to go out of her way for friends. some might consider that a flaw, but she's doing her best to look on the bright side of things, even though there's a gnawing pain she refuses to acknowledge]

Yes? [eyes wide in the moonlight.

she almost thinks it's candy in the pouch, the rattling reminds her of the Xanthuese ambassador who'd once given her a bag of hard lemon candies out of appreciation for her being so willing to listen to an old man's ramblings.

she took the candies. and the information he'd let slip directly to Mother, as she'd required]

Yes, I do. We met at his birthday party. He seemed like a nice young man.

[but she's mildly startled to be given the entire backpack. surely L would need that himself, right?]

[hearthebell]

He is... he's that. He's good, you know...

[Better, brighter. He can burn so long and so far, he doesn't say, because the presence at his side, posture curved forward like his own, looks hungry.]

No matter what he says, he is good.

[He pushes the backpack towards her more insistently, as if to confirm that really he will not be needing it. The silver in his eyes and veins makes him seen like moonlight given form, fragile and brief on earth.]

III

[droptheious]

[Oh. Well. Those eyes are very worrying. Varian only just about recognises L and the whole new look gives him reason to pause. He, himself, is clear of his corruption since last they saw each other. It's unsettling to see the tables have turned somewhat.]

Um- sure. What- what do you need doing? [A pause.] Have you...had that looked at? The... [he waves at L's general self] the everything going on here?

[hearthebell]

[Corruption and being on the brink of beasthood both suit L unsettlingly well. The silver pulls a blueish tone out of his pale skin, deepening the haunted shadows grooved into his cheeks and undereyes.]

You mean... oh, yes. I understand what you mean, and that's why I need your help.

[He glances slowly back at his tether, hunched the way he is. While his own posture looks defeated and tired, the tether could best be described as looking hungry.]

[droptheious]

[Oh, Buddy, no. ]

Right- right, of course. The uh- double is really concerning. Well. I'm here, and I'll help however I can.

ii

[peripheries]

...What?

[hearthebell]

[He turns on his microphone.

Typing with a hand that's melted off is turning out to be... taxing. The bewilderment, shock and pain make the fingers of his right hand clumsy, and also his tongue... but at least the latter is probably more comprehensible.]

If... if you're in Crenshaw, something bad just came through a portal. You've got to watch out for it, especially the tongue.

[peripheries]

I see. [No. Wait. There's more to this.] Are you saying you need help then?

surprise! it's a II! & WILDCARD!

[asas]

[ there has been a lot happening, none of which have been bad or remotely terrifying for shoyo. he's only a ball of joy and only has been ever since paul's party, lazarus would realize, all through energetic meetups and messages to maintain contact. he's also painfully unaware of what may be happening on the other end of this message, and sends such without second thought in a flurry of omni pings. ]

lazarus!!!!!!
😁😚😉
you wont BELIEVE what fell out of the portal things look look look

[ what he sends is a picture, taken by picanha, of him posing in front of his entire bedroom piling high with mikasa volleyball, enough to look like one massive ball pit. ]

do you want to toss for me???
you can finally see my jump for real this time!! and my spike! like BOOM!
and my architecture 💪💪💪
we can watch the meteor showers from the roof after
what do you say?

*CLUTCHES HEART*

[hearthebell]

[As L rests his head against his knees, doing his very best to not get sick or pass out, his omni pings. He pulls it toward him, having no help now that Lycka has bolted off to find help for him.

He stares blearily at the picture, wondering at first if it's a hallucination. Oh... Shoyo looks so incredibly happy. For the second time in recent memory, L chooses to spare him immediate pain, only this time, the disaster has already happened, instead of being yet to come.

His answer is slow in coming, because he's got to type it so carefully to avoid slipping on sweaty, bloody fingers. Of which he only has five left, of the original ten.]

thats' realy great

wahtever you want, I promise

[He'll either manage to honor it or he won't. Either way Shoyo will be aware that he always intended to.]

[asas]

[ typos are typos, aren’t they? little accidents that shōyō nearly finds odd for someone as calculating with his words as lazarus was. ]

awesome!!
want me to come over instead? you sound kinda tired

iii.

[dohaeris]

[sansa blinks at the man on her doorstep. he looks.......silvery, and he's acting...defeated. something is very wrong here. in the house behind her, lady barks.]

I don't need your things, I need your help. Are you well? Come inside.

[is there something...behind him? she tries to peer around him, then gasps and reaches for his arm.]

Come inside very quickly.

[hearthebell]

[L's found Sansa, and it's a testament to the shape he's in that he's broken his typical habit of not asking for help, or daring to darken the threshold of someone's door with his rather bad-luck presence.

The bad luck seems likely to continue.]

No; no I'm not well. But...

[He glances over his shoulder at the tether, the weirdly solid shadow that just continues to follow him and wait. The sweet-faced girl in front of him is the obvious choice of the two to reach for; he does so, entering her home.

Too bad the tether won't be shut out. It stands in the glow of a moon orb, quiet, shaped like a question mark just like its Sleeper.]

[dohaeris]

[sansa's been walking the streets treating corruption all month, and when she's not treating corruption she's very often working and chatting with old night walkers. she knows how this goes.

so she glares briefly at the tether and hugs lazarus, tightly.]

You came here because you knew I would help without you having to ask.

[this is a guess. but she's guessing, too, that he would be more impressed if she framed it as a statement of fact, and she's been in the habit of trying to impress clever men. she doesn't even realize she's doing it (or she might stop herself).]

I expect it will work better if you hug me back.